


We're Islands In An Ocean

by annalikestotalk



Category: Wooden Overcoats
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11282811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalikestotalk/pseuds/annalikestotalk
Summary: Piffling Vale may always be quiet, but it is quietest in the morning, when the sun is just peeking above the horizon and most residents are still asleep in their beds. It is for this reason that most of the time Rudyard spends outside – when not in the cemetery, of course – is then. Since he was young, Rudyard has spent his mornings outside, wandering the area near the funeral home and enjoying the peace and quiet. Until now, the only thing to interrupt has been the birds.Until now, Eric Chapman has not been on the island.





	We're Islands In An Ocean

Piffling Vale is a very quiet place. This is not unusual for somewhere as small as Piffling, as small places tend to have fewer people in them. This is, in fact, one of the few things Rudyard Funn genuinely enjoys about Piffling. It is, in fact, one of the few things he enjoys at all.

Piffling Vale may always be quiet, but it is quietest in the morning, when the sun is just peeking above the horizon and most residents are still asleep in their beds. It is for this reason that most of the time Rudyard spends outside – when not in the cemetery, of course – is then. Since he was young, Rudyard has spent his mornings outside, wandering the area near the funeral home and enjoying the peace and quiet. Until now, the only thing to interrupt has been the birds.

Until now, Eric Chapman has not been on the island.

“Rudyard! Rudyard, wait!” Rudyard tenses, taking a sharp breath in through his nose at the sudden and obnoxious interruption.

He turns slowly to see Chapman slowly jogging over from his own funeral home, wearing what is clearly pyjamas and slippers, and waving slightly. He seems pleased to see Rudyard, and though it is the same as every time they have met, it still confuses him.  Just why is Chapman happy to see _him_ , of all people? He’s up to something, Rudyard is sure of it, and right now he wants no part of it.

“Chapman.” He grates out as the man reaches him.

“It’s strange to see you out and about this early, Rudyard. Are you going somewhere?” There’s a slight breeze that blows, ruffling Chapman’s hair and brushing against his bare arms, making him shiver. Rudyard’s jaw tenses as he tries not to grin at the fact that he’s dressed for the weather, while Chapman isn’t. It’s a small victory, but small victories are the only kind he seems to get these days.

“Why do you want to know?” He asks after a moment, when the glee of Chapman’s slight misfortune fades all too quickly. Chapman shrugs, and he smiles at Rudyard.

“Just wondering what you were up to, that’s all. It’s not like you to spend time outside just for the fun of it.” Chapman smiles wider like he’s just told a funny joke, and Rudyard feels his temper flare.

“I have taken a morning walk every day since I turned fifteen, Chapman, thank you very much. Just because _some_ of us like to sleep in and waste the morning, doesn’t mean that all of us do.” Chapman’s eyes take on the interested glint they always do when he learns something new and unexpected about Rudyard. He curses inwardly as he realises he’s just given Chapman more information that might be used in whatever nefarious scheme Chapman is surely planning, and he hurries to distract him. “What are you doing up, anyway?”

“Oh, me?” Replies Chapman, smiling like he’s both surprised and glad that Rudyard asked. That look alone makes him regret it already. “I don’t know, I just woke up early today. Guess I was supposed to run into you, hey?”

Rudyard isn’t sure why, but there’s a moment of strange silence between them. Chapman clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, and Rudyard scoffs.

“Yes, well. I suppose only ruining _most_ of my life isn’t enough for an overachiever like you.”

“Oh, come on now.” Complains Chapman. “I’ve never tried to ruin anything for you!”

“That doesn’t mean you haven’t.” That doesn’t come out quite like Rudyard had meant it to. There’s no roughness, just a kind of resigned moroseness that he hadn’t even realised he had inside him. There’s yet another look on Chapman’s face that he decides he doesn’t like, and in one last attempt to protect his dignity, he turns on his heel and stalks off in the opposite direction.

“Rudyard, hold on! Where are you going?” Chapman calls after him, but Rudyard doesn’t turn around. He regrets it a moment later when Chapman grabs his arm and drags him to a stop. Rudyard half turns to face him, and Chapman doesn’t let go of him.

“Well?” Rudyard demands after a moment of silence and Chapman’s searching eyes. “What on earth do you want _now_ , Chapman?”

Chapman is quiet for a moment more, and Rudyard thinks he should probably shrug off the hand still on his arm, but he can’t quite seem to make himself actually do it.

“I’m sorry.” Says Chapman at last, and there’s a moment when Rudyard is quite certain he’s heard him wrong.

“You… what?” Sputters out Rudyard, quite at a loss for words. “What the hell do you mean, you’re sorry?”

A ghost of a smile passes over Chapman’s face. “I mean I’m sorry, Rudyard. You’re right. Maybe you’re not the best funeral director in the world-“ Rudyard opens his mouth to protest, but Chapman barrels on, “- but this is your home, and things started going awfully for you once I arrived. Maybe… Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.”

Something about that rubs Rudyard the wrong way, though he isn’t quite sure what. Maybe it’s the sad, almost self-pitying look on Chapman’s face. Maybe it’s the way his eyes won’t quite meet Rudyard’s own.

Maybe it’s the idea that Eric Chapman could have never entered his life.

Whatever it is, Rudyard decides that he doesn’t like it. Whatever is happening right now, he’s not okay with it. This Chapman isn’t the right Chapman, isn’t _his_ Chapman. And Rudyard finds he quite wants his Chapman back.

“Rubbish.” He says decidedly, and Chapman’s eyes shoot up to meet his with an air of shock.

“But… But you just said…”

“I know what I said, Chapman.” Interrupts Rudyard. “But it’s still rubbish. ‘Shouldn’t have come here,’ honestly. Are you so easily defeated? Come on now, Chapman. Don’t be boring.”

Chapman’s mouth is flapping open and closed like a fish, and Rudyard finds he quite likes his face when it’s dumfounded.

“I… I don’t…”

“Quite honestly, I like the competition. It was getting quite dull not having anyone to win against.” It’s a blatant lie and they both know it, but Chapman’s starting to smile again, and Rudyard finds it doesn’t bother him as much as it should. In fact, he realises that smile is what he’s been aiming for, and he wonders at how this entire situation got so turned around.

“Well. We all know you’re happiest when someone else is losing.” It’s slightly hesitant, but there’s a gentle teasing in it that makes Rudyard’s chest feel a little lighter.

“And we all know that you are very good at losing, Chapman.” It’s another huge lie, but it makes Chapman chuckle, just a little, and Rudyard realises he’s almost smiling back. He tries very hard to tamp down on it, but he’s fairly certain that he’s just making it more obvious.

“Rudyard…” Says Chapman, and it’s more serious now. He isn’t smiling anymore, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes that makes Rudyard think he isn’t far from it.

“Yes, Chapman?” He asks, and he was right, there’s the smile again. Except it’s different somehow, he thinks. Softer.

“Call me Eric.”

It’s Rudyard’s turn to be dumfounded, and he sees the light of amusement in Chapman’s eyes, as well as something a little more reserved. Rudyard has nothing clever to say to that. He doesn’t know how to respond, and he’s simultaneously grateful and incredibly irritated by the sound of Antigone’s voice calling from the direction of Funn Funerals.

“Rudyard, what on earth is taking you so long? And who on earth are you talking to? You never talk to any- oh. Chapman. You’re… Chapman. Why are you talking to Chapman?”

Her voice gets higher and higher as she speaks, until she squeaks out the last word, and Chapman blatantly stifles a laugh.

“Hello Antigone.” He calls with a wave. “How are things at Funn Funerals?”

“They’re fine. Why are you asking? What do you want to know? Rudyard! Why are you talking to _Chapman_?” She demands, and Rudyard has to stifle an absurd chuckle of his own. What is wrong with him today? It’s Chapman’s doing, he’s sure of it. Chapman turns back to Rudyard and smiles, almost ruefully.

“I guess I’ll see you later then, Rudyard.” Rudyard nods.

“Yes. I suppose you will.” Chapman nods back and turns to walk back home. Rudyard’s heart races. “Goodbye, Eric.”

Chapman freezes, then turns back to Rudyard. His face is shocked again, but quickly breaks into a smile, the likes of which Rudyard doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His face almost seems to glow with it, and Rudyard suddenly understands the ridiculous idea of people shining like the sun.

“Goodbye Rudyard.” He says, then turns again and all but skips away. Rudyard turns in the direction of home.

“What was that about?” Demands Antigone as he walks in the door. “What were you and Chapman talking about? And what _is_ that look on your face?”

He turns to her slowly.

“Antigone.” He says, and she nods impatiently for him to continue. “Antigone, I do believe I’m smiling.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can, take my commas, from my cold, dead,,, hands,
> 
> Title from Anna F's Too Far.
> 
> This is my first Wooden Overcoats fic. I love reading them, but there's only about 40 in the whole tag, so I figured I'd throw in my contribution. The ending's not great, but hey-ho.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at annalikestotalk


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